


Expressions

by pennedwriter



Category: Christian Bible
Genre: Catholic Guilt, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, NaNoWriMo, Original Character(s), Working Out My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:20:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29733105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennedwriter/pseuds/pennedwriter
Summary: The Angels Gabriel and Raphaella were great leaders of the Angelic Host when they committed a forbidden act. They fell prey to an emotion called Love, and it is in their expression of Love that they were stripped of their powers and cast into the Heavenly Prison. Their Expression meanwhile, was sent down to Earth to hide from Angelic Wrath.God made it known that anyone who could find this Expression would enjoy His favour till the end of days, for the Expression was sent into an area even he could not fully influence.The Realm of Humans, whom he had given "Free Will."
Relationships: Gabriel & Lucifer & Michael (Abrahamic Religions), Michael | Mikail/Rafael | Raphael | Israfil
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Angles. 

That was what he missed most at this moment, he thought. 

Hard, rough, sharp angles. Everywhere he touched, he could remember how the skin was stretched taut across muscle, across sinew, across bone. When their lips touched, he was acutely aware of how thin his partner's lips were, yet this did not matter. There was only the sensation of the other's lips on his, of their tongues meeting, pressing against each other, their saliva mixing with each other. 

He remembered the other's hands around him, pulling out the thin shirt from his pants in impatience. When he was touched, he thought he might have died. Delicious, soft, smooth skin under his lips and fingertips. He forced himself to remember that memory, to remember how it felt to touch and be touched. To feel the shape of himself, and of the other. A shape that held pleasure and ecstasy and emotion yet still remain, to the eye, itself. 

Gabriel opened his eyes to find darkness all around him, with only a glimmer of light in the distance. It was enough to brighten a little of his surroundings, but only just. In this dark corner of the universe, he found the silence deafening, and the lack of smells too. 

He smiled at the memory, content. Though it had not ended the way they hoped, still, it was, what it was. The memories kept him here, even if he longed to fade into oblivion. It was all he had at the moment, warring as it were, with his feelings of duties and desire for action. 

Time, for an angel, was never kind.


	2. Birth

It was the sound of footsteps that awoke him from his daze. The sound was loud and new, and so Gabriel opened his eyes. He found himself correcting his posture, sitting up instinctively from where he had been leaning against the wall, and then he unfolded his legs, stretching them, before he found himself getting to his feet. 

As he moved towards the sound, he felt the cell shift, and the light in front of the cell grew brighter. The light's radiance faded after a few moments and he felt several familiar auras around him. In front, the bright white light had faded to a soft, warm and comforting red glow, while a little off to his left, a familiar, gentle breeze. A loving one.

"Raphaela," he called out softly. 

"Gabriel," the female voice that replied enunciated the first syllable slightly, adding a twist to the regular pronunciation. 

"I see the two of you cannot be saved yet," the third voice that spoke was laconic, drawled, and lazy. 

Gabriel stepped close to the bars and to the edge of the left side, and then reached out his hand, hoping to touch Raphaela's hands through the bars. He found nothing but air, but a breeze answered him, running up his exposed skin softly and gently. 

"You cannot touch," the voice sighed, and Gabriel finally turned his attention to him. 

The man was sitting on a raised platform, his red wings tinged with white at the ends, folded back. His green eyes were sorrowful but his lips were turned upwards in a friendly smile. His heavy robes were all various shades of red, shifting one moment from the brilliant colours of sunset to the bright orange of a campfire. Gabriel returned his smile, acknowledging him in friendship. 

"Michael," he named the angel. 

"Michaela. Have you come to us in mirrored form?" Raphaela said a moment later.

"Yes, on order of His Most High and Glorious," Michael acknowledged, and Gabriel heard the dual baritone, overlayered voice that was employed when one was in such a form - the angels took on the same gender of the person they were speaking to. 

"He wanted you to speak to us together then," Raphaela continued, a tired sigh in her voice. 

"A dialogue with your hearts, so that all may be clear. No walls between each other, no opportunity for mistrust," Michael nodded at Raphaela's words. 

"Otherwise Uriel would be commanded for us," Gabriel moved from the left to the centre of the cell. Since he could not touch Raphael, there was no need to keep standing there. He sat down on the floor, appreciating at least the opportunity for movement. 

"Yes, this is not my speciality," Michael admitted. 

"Even after all those times you defended Israel with words?" Raphaela's words were tinged with humour, good natured ribbing. 

"And those times you rendered Haman speechless?" Gabriel continued the teasing. This brought a chuckle from Michael. 

"Thank you, friends," Michael looked at both of them with a clear and sincere gaze, "Thoust always has been a balm to the soul." 

"What is thy speech?" Raphaela had noted and assumed the formal tone Michael adopted. 

"Pray, tell us," Gabriel leant forward as well, hands on his cross-legged knees, listening intently. 

"Looking at thee like this reminds one of the first time thoust both came for instruction, doest thou remembers?" Michael laughed, evading the question. 

It was a hearty laugh that felt at odds with his young smooth face, Gabriel thought quietly to himself. An ancient laugh, as some humans would say, from a young face. 

"Because we were to go into battle, and the Lord commanded us we seek thee out for instruction," Gabriel nodded, replying in a serious tone. 

"Against one of our own," Michael nodded sadly, the memory clearly painful to him. He looked up and away from them, but Gabriel and Raphaela both knew what he was trying to do. 

"Helpers born in this place…" Gabriel cautioned Michael. 

"Doth be bound here. Leave quickly, brother!" Raphaela continued the warning. 

"Nay," Michael snapped his head forward, and closed his eyes. 

Two bright, shiny tears fell from his eyes and rolled down his soft, round cheeks. They met under his chin and hung on for an impossibly long heartbeat, and dropped, turning into a bright, multicoloured glow of blue, orange and white. The tear then hovered around Michael's face, and all three of them could feel the warmth of the new angel, filled with concern. 

"I am alright, little one," Michael's tone was soft and informal, even as the glowing ball of light touched his cheek and wiped away the trail of tears. "Go and introduce yourself," he gestured towards Gabriel and Raphaela, and the glowing ball left Michael's presence reluctantly to head towards the two cells. 

"I am Raphaela, or Raphael, it is a pleasure to meet thee," Raphaela introduced herself with a formal tone, but there was joy in her voice. 

"I am Gabriel, or Gabrielle," Gabriel introduced himself in the same manner, but with a hint of teasing, "Tis a pleasure to meet thee." 

The little ball made a soft twirl sound of pleasure and spun. It seemed delighted to meet them as well. Then it seemed to turn back to Michael, as though waiting for its next instructions. 

"Ah yes, where were we?" Michael began. 

~~~~~

"Push, ma'am, you must push!" 

"Aaaaa ahhhhh ahhhhhhh!" the woman let loose a long scream, holding tightly onto her husband's hand. 

He wisely said nothing, holding on to her single grip with his two hands, lips pursed in pain. This was the least he could do while she fought to bring their child into this world. She had cursed at him many times so far yet she had not let his hand go - he would not be shameless and run away when she was fighting this battle. 

The pain that was ripping through her felt like it was going to tear her soul apart. She shouted and screamed as she attempted to push the child through her womb. Even though they had given drugs to dull the pain, it felt like it would never be enough. She thought she was going to go insane from the pain, because her existence was nothing but pain - the physical pain, the mental pain and exhaustion from this birth, and the emotional pain. 

It had struck her some hours ago when her labour began that she would never again be able to rest easy knowing her child was in her womb, safe and snug. That her child was coming into this world, to face its dangers and its terrors. That her child, the life she was birthing, would be filled with suffering. That she was a sinner for bringing a child into this world. 

It was with this thought that she screamed her resistance, that she would fight for this child, that she would make the world a better place for her child, her firstborn, her soul. 

And suddenly she felt something slide out from her and the nurse cry out in joy. In that moment too, she felt her soul shatter, her heart break. As the baby was born, she found herself gasping in shock, in fear. What had she done? What did she think she was doing? 

In just those two seconds, many things happened. 

"Maria!" her husband was the first to notice something was wrong with her. Her grip on his had loosened, and the look on Maria's face was very different. From being wrapped in pain, it was now filled with anger, and he knew this face well. 

One of the nurses was holding the baby as the doctor cut the umbilical cord. Yet the baby was not crying, but silent. Maria growled softly, as though angry and affronted by the presence of the child. The birthing chair and her squatting position made it difficult for her to get out, but her husband was already reaching over to prevent her. 

He grabbed her chin and made her look into his eyes, not sparing a glance for his newborn child. His voice was low, desperate as he spoke the first words in several hours, not since Maria had begun holding his hand in that death grip. 

"Maria, our child is born! Espie is here!" he looked at his wife in the eyes, and her face immediately softened when she saw him. Then he kissed her lips, softly, gently, calmingly. 

Beyond them, the sound of several slaps reverberated across the room. Then there was a loud cry, and a newborn's baby wail began to fill the space. The baby was wrapped and Maria turned from her husband to the nurse, who was handing her a small, tiny thing for her to lay on her chest. 

Her eyes pooled with tears as she met the tiny life she had birthed. As soon as the child was laid on her chest and heard her heartbeat, the baby immediately quietened. Maria felt a warmth settle in her soul. Her child was here, and the soul pain she felt was lesser. Her child. 

"Is it…" she heard her husband ask the doctor, even as she reveled in the baby's weight on her chest, warm and snug. 

"It's a girl, Mr Cho," the doctor's friendly voice replied. 

"Esperanza Cho," Maria said softly, "welcome, child of my heart," she intoned softly, kissing the forehead of the child. 

"Esperanza Cho," her husband repeated softly, kissing his wife. "Welcome, my child."


	3. Reluctance

"Espie! Can you help me?" the shout broke Espie's concentration. 

She got off the couch and put her book away, heading to the kitchen. Her father beckoned her and gave her a long wooden spoon. She took it wordlessly from him, stirring the pot. 

"Go a bit slow, I want to pour this in," he lifted a bowl of cornstarch and began tilting it in. Espie stirred slowly, keeping the pace her father had taught her, and then moved quicker when her father picked up the beaten egg whites in another bowl. 

"Let's hope this works!" he breathed, and then he poured the egg white into the small whirlpool that Espie had created. 

Ribbons of white immediately began to take form, creating a lovely egg drop soup. Espie and her father broke out into large grins. 

"Success!" they laughed as Espie began to slow so the soup would come together. This stew followed no recipe but was her father's attempt at replicating a dish he had as a child. 

"Now let's see if it will taste well," her father took out two spoons, giving one to Espie. 

Espie quickly tried a bit and exclaimed in delight. It was warm and full bodied, a very hearty soup she could easily drink on its own. Her father, seeing her reaction, quickly followed suit. After tasting it, he lowered the fire and then put a lid on the pot, letting it simmer. Then he turned to Espie, put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. 

"Dad?" Espie raised her eyes to look up when her father did not lift his lips from her forehead. 

He hugged her tighter as sobs racked his body. Espie suppressed a sigh and hugged her father as he buried his head in her hair. Espie was tall for her age but she still had a bit of a ways to go before she was taller than her father. As it was, she was now just under his chin. After what seemed like a long while, he let out a shuddering breath and released Espie from the embrace, reaching out for a kitchen towel. 

"Ah Ma's recipe?" was all Espie asked, as she stepped away from the stove. 

"Great-grandmother's," her father said in between blowing his nose. "I remembered having it when great-grandfather passed away, but no one really knows how she made it," he admitted. 

"So did we get it?" Espie wondered. 

"Almost. It's at your grandmother's level for sure," her father ruffled her hair, "And your mom is going to be so surprised when she gets home," they shared a secret grin. 

"Surprised by what, darlings?" Maria walked into the kitchen, placing her things on a dining chair. 

"Mom, you have to try this, it's good," Espie had no qualms about selling out her father. 

"Espie!" her dad protested half-heartedly as his wife walked towards them and crowded around the stove. 

Espie passed her own spoon to her mother and lifted the pot's cover, more or less pushing her dad out of the way. He smiled in resignation and stepped back. Maria took some soup, blew on the spoon and then slowly slurped. Both Espie and her father watched her reaction carefully. Maria closed her eyes as she held the soup in her mouth before swallowing. 

"It tastes just like Mother's!" she looked at her husband, eyes wide. "You found her recipe?" 

"No, but it comes close, doesn't it?" he came over and Maria kissed him on the lips noisily. 

"Ew, get a room," Espie said, and her mother laughed, before pulling her close and kissing her daughter on the forehead. 

"I should go shower," Maria pinched Espie, who made a face at her mother but took the spoon from her to wash in the sink. 

"You should, I hope work was good?" her father asked as Maria picked up her suitcase and jacket from where she had placed them on the chair. 

"Eh, it was alright. Tell you more over dinner," Maria's tone was resigned. 

"You too, go take your shower," her father shooed Espie out of the kitchen. 

She giggled and went to the living room, picking up her book. Espie put in a bookmark, then got her phone and went to her room. The apartment was long and narrow, and her room was separated by a toilet from her parents'. She could hear the water running from her mother's shower. 

Espie switched on her computer. Though her father had asked her to shower, she actually could not as long as her mother was in, so she might as well go online. Espie went through her messages and then she heard the doorbell ring. 

"I'll get it," she practically ran from her room to the door. Espie opened the door but did not take off the chain.

Outside, a kindly old woman was standing with a cat in her arms. She looked embarrassed but also relieved when she saw it was Espie. 

"Hi Auntie Clara, how can I help you?" Espie greeted her politely, holding the door open but not inviting her in. 

"Hello Espie, is your mother in?" Clara's smile was missing a tooth, and Espie always had a hard time not staring at it. Even with the cat in Clara's arms. 

"Who is it?" Espie heard her father shout from the kitchen. 

"Auntie Clara's looking for mom," Espie turned and shouted back. 

"Tell her to come back tomorrow morning!" 

"I'm sorry Auntie Clara, you heard my father," Espie put on a contrite look and shook her head. 

"Oh dear, I'm afraid it cannot wait till tomorrow, you see Bennie here…" Clara looked down at the cat in her arms, but Espie refused to follow her gaze. 

"I'm sorry Auntie Clara, but like dad said, tomorrow morning please," Espie begin to close the door. 

"Won't you at least offer me a glass of water?" Auntie Clara's voice changed, but Espie found herself frightened and immediately slammed the door shut. 

"Espie!" there was a large thud on the door as Clara slammed her fists on the door. Her voice was shrill, but Espie shook her head and turned the look.

"Espie love, what's wrong?" her mother came out of the shower, wet hair wrapped in a turban. 

Espie took a deep breath, unsure how to explain what happened, but her father answered.

"It was Clara, love," he called out from the kitchen. 

Espie realised, not for the first time, that when her parents used the word love, it was always accompanied with gravitas and sincerity. Even when they used it casually. 

"What did she want?" Maria looked puzzled at her husband's answer. As she made her way to the kitchen, she turned to look back at Espie. "You, shower, now." 

"Yes mom," Espie quickly went to her room to grab her towel. 

She knew her parents wanted a chance to speak privately, but there was nothing she could do. At least not for the time being. 

~~~~~~

"Will you not repent your sins?" Michael asked them in a deep voice, disappointment evident. 

"Why should we repent something we do not regret?" Gabriel was the first to answer. 

"I regret only the consequences, not the actions. So why should I repent?" Raphaela's confident voice suddenly sounded strident, even painful to Gabriel's ears. 

He realised he had never heard her like this. Her answer also struck a second epiphany; he also never expected her to have a different answer to him. It gave birth to a number of questions in his heart, to thoughts he would have never dared entertain in his moments serving Him.

"We are not two sides of the same coin," he spoke quietly, "Nor are we like humans, always seeking connections, seeking the closeness that comes from serving the High One. The Love that drew us together was an influence of the emotions that came from inhabiting the form not of our own natural state," Gabriel fell into musing, his words trailing off. 

"You have stepped onto the right path," Michael seemed delighted at the turn of events, but Raphaela was obviously not pleased. 

"And so you would throw away our Love, Gabriel?" her voice seemed especially angry. 

Gabriel closed his eyes, trying to remember how Raphael would look like when they were angry. He found he did not have to think too hard, for he had seen it before. Raphael, with a mass of long, thick and golden curls, falling about his neck and shoulders, eyes wide with suppressed outrage and lips curled back in a sneer. 

"Raphaela," Gabriel called in a soft, gentle voice, "I remember the first time I saw you angry." 

There was no sound from the other two, but the tiny ball of light found its way into Gabriel's cell and floated in front of his face, dancing in curiosity. Gabriel smiled and patted his knee; the nameless helper sat on his knee. 

"I remember the first time I saw Raphael furious," Gabriel began, describing the hypnotic beauty of a seraphim in mortal form raging. 

At the time, Raphael was livid with Asmodeus. Gabriel remembered that time well; Raphael had just returned from fulfilling the prayers of Tobit and Sarah after the Lord had sent him down. He was furious, for Asomodeus had been especially cruel not just to Sarah, but to other women in the surrounding vicinity. 

The lustful demon had planned to seduce Sarah, delivering an abomination of a child between a fallen angel and human. This was why he killed all the men who had married Sarah before they could consummate the marriage - they were all men of faith in the Lord, but in their deepest hearts of hearts they gave Asmodeus no opportunity to twist to his desire. They did not even have lust for the beautiful Sarah, seeing her only as the vessel for their future children. Thus, Asmodeus killed them in their sleep by collapsing their hearts. 

His backup plan was to assume a human body by absorbing the essences of the women he seduced in the same town; he often visited them in the guise of their husbands, who themselves were faithless to the wives. He had already succeeded with several women, who were all in various stages of pregnancy, unaware their husbands were not the fathers of their children. 

When Raphael caught and bound Asmodeus, the demon revealed his plans, and it made Raphael sick to his stomach. Because of this, Raphael could not punish Asmodeus immediately, for slaughtering the demon and sending him back to Hell would have caused the deaths of the women, in addition to possibly starting a plague. Instead Raphael had to leave him in the Temple and rushed back to Sarah and Tobias, Tobit's son. 

Once he had delivered Tobias home safely, Raphael had praised God and went to Heaven. There, he had asked, and received orders to induce miscarriages in the affected women. Tradition meant they were not obligated to mourn a miscarried child, though Raphael had told Gabriel the young women who were newly married and had their husbands home for the year were particularly distraught. Still there was nothing else he could have done. 

"And what did you do with Asmodeus?" Michael asked gently when Gabriel had finished. 

"As the Lord commanded, I strangled him and then threw him into Hell," Raphaela's voice was low, almost sulky, yet Gabriel discovered a trap. 

"Raphael did not consort or change the punishment as decreed by the Lord," Gabriel immediately spoke up. "The command was carried out faithfully as asked. Do not accuse them of deviating and choosing instead to consort with the fallen angels. Would not the Lord have not admitted Raphael into His presence if Raphael did not obey His command? After all, the Lord God sees everything." 

"Oh?" Michael looked curiously at Gabriel. "That was not what I was going to say." 

"Can you truly swear upon the Lord? That you were not going to accuse me in any shape, way or form of colluding or collaborating with the Fallen Ones to rebel against the Lord," Raphaela's voice was tinged with fear. 

Gabriel understood her fear. All angels feared this; the deprivation of God's grace and presence was something they could never live without. Even he, in this form, and in this place, did not believe that God had forsaken them yet. In his heart, the deep yearning for God was still there, and there was an answering presence in his heart that told him he was still redeemable, that he could still return to God. That God would still accept him, if he but repented. 

"God has not turned away from us, Raphaela," Gabriel reassured her gently. 

"But I fear Michael has," Raphaela's voice was sad. 

"You would ask me to not accuse you, yet you do the same," the tone in Michael's voice was sorrowful. 

"The advocate of Israel surely understands our distrust," Raphael was speaking of them as a single unit again, and that thought comforted Gabriel greatly, though he could not say why. 

"You have spent a long time with humans, Raphaela, that you would distrust me. But have any of you ever heard me say a dishonest thing? Have you actually heard me tell a lie? Paid a compliment that was not sincere?" 

"Even backhanded sarcasm might sound like compliments to the ears listening for it," Raphaela spoke. 

The little light on Gabriel's knee suddenly flew up and out the bars. Gabriel saw it whizz to his right, and he followed it, then sat with his back against the wall. Perhaps Raphaela was here, and even if they could not touch, at least they were closer to each other here. Closer at least, then when their cells had been separated from each other. 

"Perhaps," Michael smiled faintly, and it was then that Gabriel knew Raphaela had stepped into the trap completely. "But I have not taken the name of Azarias, son of Ananias, when it is untrue." 

"You would have me question the commands of the Lord now, Michael?" Raphael's low tone made Gabriel imagine her eyes narrowing into half-crescents, a sign of simmering anger and calculation. 

"How can we trust what you say, without witnesses? And remember, bearing false witnesses is worse," this last was said to Gabriel, who wisely kept his mouth shut. 

"There is no way for us to gainsay you. I cannot say anything that would make you change your mind," Raphaela sighed, and Gabriel thought he heard her sit on the floor. 

"Repent, my sister, my brother. God misses you and wants you to return to Him. Give up this love of yours," Michael tried persuading them. 

"What would you have us do?" Gabriel asked, more out of politeness than anything else. "We are not humans, who can give up emotions through actions, or pretend as such. We are not mortals, who can choose to live a lie without betraying our hearts and emotions and principles." 

"What speak you of principles?" Michael sounded confused now. "We are the Angels of the Lord, the Heavenly host. Where He commands, we go." 

"Oh dear brother, no wonder He has sent you to us," Raphaela's voice had a trace of pity. "Ah stop it, little one, I bear you no ill." 

"Come to me," Michael's voice was firm. 

The little angel seemed to have disobeyed, and Raphaela's voice was soothing as she coaxed the little angel. 

"Go back to him, little one. I know you hurt, as so do I. I promise to try my best not to harm him with my words, but know that I can only do my best, for some things will be painful to hear," there was a low keening cry from the little angel which then suddenly rushed back to Michael, burying itself in his robes. He patted it gently.


	4. Time

Espie sat by the window watching the world go by. The rhythmic sound of the heavy rain hitting the glass was soothing, and she enjoyed the warm cup of tea in her hands. Outside, people were hurrying here and there, trying to escape the deluge. The mass of umbrellas were colourful, some patterned, some not. It resembled a fast-flowing river, with debris floating on the surface following the waves. 

Espie took a sip of her warm tea without really registering the scene below, her mind years in the past. To that fateful dinner with her mother and father, where they enjoyed a rare success of a meal with her father's recreated egg drop soup, and Auntie Clara, of all people, still banging on the door outside. Not until someone else had opened their door to shout at her did Auntie Clara go away, but she had never forgotten that moment.

The sound of heels clicking on the wooden floor brought Espie out of her reverie. She straightened herself, still holding and sipping her warm tea in anticipation. When the steps stopped outside the room and someone knocked politely on the door, Espie sighed. It was time. 

"Espie, they're here," that person called her from the door, and Espie reluctantly got to her feet, giving one last longing look towards the outside world before she turned to the person who had called her. 

"Are all of them here, Rubes?" she sipped her tea as she walked over, looking innocent. 

"Every last one. All the branch Heads, and no one else," Rubes was a woman who looked like she was in her mid-forties, with brown hair swept upwards into a neat bun, revealing strands of white hair at the sides. It gave her a dignified, if serious look. 

"Good. What about the others?" Espie put the tea cup on a coffee table by the side of the door as they left the room. She threaded her hand through Rubes' elbow, holding on to her like a little sister. 

"They're already in position. If nothing else, we should be able to extract the families," Rubes said nothing about how Espie was holding on to her.

They were walking down a long wooden corridor with portraits lining the walls. Each wall held a set of 4 portraits. Under each set of portraits were large vases filled with fresh flowers, placed as though it were an offering or a memorial. From the meeting room towards the end of the corridor, it was possible to trace fashion styles through the ages via the portraits. As Rubes and Espie had come out from the middle of the corridor, it felt like they were stepping back in time, with the styles getting progressively older.

"At best, we should be able to close at least two inter-dimensional portals by tomorrow morning," Espie commented while nodding at Rubes' assessment. 

As they approached the meeting room, several people who were lounging outside hurried into the room through the doors at the other end. Espie took her hand out of Rubes' elbow, straightened herself and adjusted the soft jacket slung over her shoulders. She had not put her hands in her jacket sleeves, wearing it like a cape. Rubes gave her a reassuring squeeze under the pretense of helping Espie arrange the jacket, and then opened the door in front of them. 

"It'll be fine," Rubes whispered as Espie gave no indication she heard her and walked in. 

Espie could see the various branch Heads taking their seats. Some had opened water bottles and filled glasses in front of them; others had tea and perhaps coffee, judging by the smell. Oh she missed coffee, but not right now, she thought as she stepped confidently into the room. 

A few of them took their seats, looking curiously at her. Still others were standing behind their chairs, as though ready to run at any given moment. Espie made her way to the head of the table and gazed at the men and women around the table. Nine of them were here, including her, which made ten. They all looked different from each other, but she could see the familial resemblance, since she knew what to look for. 

It was in the way their lips quirked in a greeting smile, the way their eyebrows rose in question at her attire and her manner, in the impatient tapping on the table, in the way they all held tension in their shoulders. 

All of them, including her. Whether they realised it or not, this fierce way of holding themselves tense, ready to leap into action, was a trait they all had. It was something they had inherited. 

And now she had come to play the most dangerous gambit of her career. 

"Please sit, uncles and aunties, and cousins," she nodded to all of them, before she pulled back her own chair and settled into it. 

A few of them took a quick glance at the doors and saw they were all closed. The curtains had been pulled down long before any of them stepped into the room, presumably to block out the sunlight, but more importantly to hide their identities. For here, within these four walls, were some of the most powerful people in their districts, and in some cases, their countries. 

"Why have you sought us out, Temperance?" a woman with short dark hair curled at the ends asked impatiently. She was not that much younger than Espie, but she carried with her an air of immaturity and impishness. While her words sounded harsh, her warm smile indicated otherwise. 

"Thank you, Star. I call you all to apologise in advance," Espie took a deep breath and looked at everyone around the table in the eye at least once. 

"I have mobilised the Minor Arcana… completely. In all twenty-two sectors," she spoke quickly. 

"What?" more than a few of the branch heads leapt to their feet. Star remained in her seat, her face impassive. 

"How could you, Espie? You have left us vulnerable!" an old man shouted, calling her several unflattering things in his native language, all while pointing his finger at her. He looked wizened, as though he had one foot in the grave, but Espie knew that his disease was smoke, drink and cursing other people. These things had a way of coming back to haunt people. 

"Calm down, Fortune, I am sure Temperance has a reason for this, don't you?" another old man, one who looked not much older than Rubes, said quietly, his deep voice quieting the room instantly. Espie did not like dealing with him, but she had to admit that his deep voice had a way of calming others down. 

"Yes, uncle Chariot, I do," she did not hesitate to resort to family rank. "If you will give me a few minutes to explain…" Espie knew that this was the most dangerous time, for she needed to keep them here, while her plans were carried outside. 

Twenty minutes, she thought to herself, that's how long I have to keep them here so we can do this. 

It would be the longest twenty minutes of her life. 

~~~~~~

The little angel flew back to Michael reluctantly, as though expecting to be scolded. Michael instead gently cradled the angel in his palm and then adjusted his robes, arranging it so there was a nook around his corner he could place the fledgling creature to nap. 

"Sleep now, little one," he spoke in a hypnotic voice, and the little one quietened down. Its light soon disappeared. 

"I have always meant to ask you, Michael," Gabriel began conversationally, as though having forgotten all the tension a moment ago, "but are these little ones a part of you?" 

"You mean like a golem? No, they are their own beings," Michael shook his head. 

"Yet they are formed from your tears. We have just seen you do it," Raphaela pounced on Gabriel's line of thought. They had truly spent much time together, understanding each other well. 

"They are but helpers, born of my tears. What would you have me do? Send them away?" 

"You have the gift of Creation," Raphaela continued. Michael nodded. 

"A blessing from the Most High, that I may lead His armies better," and he looked confused at their questions. "Why this line of questioning?" 

"You have the gift of Creation, dear brother, yet you have never questioned the Lord's intent. What use is this gift, if you make use of it in such a limited way?" Gabriel asked something that had puzzled him for the longest time. 

"How else would I use it, but in the way the Lord has ordained?" Michael was shaking his head, completely confused. "I am, like you, but instrument of the Lord. Where He commands, and asks me to do, I fulfil," he cocked his head to one side, looking curiously at the two of them. 

"Do you truly trust him like this?" Raphaela asked Gabriel. 

"No, love. We both know what the Mirrored Form does to us, and one like this…" he shook his head, hoping Michael would fall into their trap. 

He did not disappoint. 

"What means you this, my siblings? How have I proven worthy of your distrust?" 

"You would have us believe, brother Michael, that you are merely a simpleton, that you follow only the orders of the Lord without thinking. That the great warrior Archangel Michael, for his leadership of the Heavenly Hosts, is a blind follower of the Lord," Gabriel was quick to say the doubts that was hidden in his heart. 

"Do not treat us as fools, Michael," Raphaela had dropped Michael's feminine name, acknowledging Michael in the form she had seen him in. "You are one of the oldest serving our Lord, not just in age, but in rank and in trust. What exactly do you wish of us? Gabriel has asked, and I support him in this, for an answer in what you would have us do, in order to repent. Both of us do not regret nor repent for the Love we bear each other, and we have chosen so freely," Raphaela continued in a fiery speech. "Or would you have us give up our free will?" 

Gabriel could tell by how loud and angry she was that Raphaela had got to her feet and was standing in a fierce warrior's pose, presenting her left side, hand slightly raised, as though she were holding a shield. If she had a weapon, it would have been a short sword in her right hand, though as a healer one would hope she never had to stab anyone. 

He turned his attention to Michael, and felt his blood run cold when he saw the slow, understanding smile on Michael's face. Raphaela caught it too, for Gabriel could hear her shocked breath, followed by her faltering steps as she moved away. It was an instinctive, primal fear, born from the form they now inhabited. 

"You would have us give up everything we have?" Gabriel continued to stare at Michael, who was now smiling beneficently. Instead of Michael stepping into the trap, it had been the other way around. They were the ones who had been led to this conclusion. 

"It is one of the ways you can demonstrate your loyalty to our Lord. Free will, given to the forms you now inhabit, are the reasons why the emotions within you have been allowed to develop. Trust in the Lord, for He only has your best interests at heart, my siblings," Michael's voice was tempting, seductive. 

"What happens after?" Gabriel asked, as he too got to his feet, but he moved towards the bars, as though eager for the promise. 

"Gabriel!" Raphaela's distressed cry did not sway him. 

"You will start again from the beginning. All memories of this interlude," the word was said with distaste, "will be forgotten and wiped away from everyone's memories but the Lord. In doing so you will be reborn and reforged once more as the true Messenger of the Lord," Michael's warm words were at odds with his initial distaste. "Everything will be forgiven." 

"And you, my dear sister, will you not abandon this? Become one again with the Lord, and be reborn as the Angel who will announce the Day of Judgement. Your trumpet still awaits your touch, as the time grows near," Michael looked over at Raphaela, who was still cowering in the back of the cell. He had dropped his mirrored form, since Raphaela had called him out on it, and thus sat in front of her with his outstretched hand in his male form. 

"Neither of you will never need to go without God's grace and holiness again," Michael continued, looking beatific, "And all will be as in God's plan." 

"All will be as in God's plan, huh," Gabriel whispered in thought.


	5. Not the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp there goes my plan to update every few days. Haven't abandoned this yet, so if you're reading this, thank you for following. I appreciate it and hope it gives you some entertainment. 
> 
> You'd think that having written and completed this during Nanowrimo I'd be more diligent in updating but urgh apparently the fear of having people criticise my work is real. Enjoy!

The building shook. Everyone, including Espie, looked completely unperturbed as the alarms went off, followed by urgent knocks. Espie nodded towards the slightly middle-aged old man nearest to the door. This deferment to her authority did not go unnoticed by the room. 

"I'm sorry, uncle Hierophant, but there has been an accident. We must evacuate," it was Rubes, her hair askew and her steps unsteady, as though she had been caught in the actual explosion. 

"Perhaps we should," Hierophant turned to Espie, who was getting up. 

"Then we shall. Lead the way, Rubes," Espie stood and watched as them all file out in an orderly manner, showing no signs of panic even though the building began to vibrate and shake. 

"Are you alright?" Star was the only one who did not follow, waiting for Espie walked. They brought up the rear, and Star offered her hand for Espie to lean on. 

"Yes, I am. I didn't know how tiring this could be, even this early on," Espie leant on Star, before resting her free hand on her own belly. 

"Who is the fathe.. Never mind," Star began, then stopped. If Espie wanted her to know, she would tell her. That was the way it had always been between these two thick as thieves cousins. 

"The man is not someone you know. Suffice to say that this child will be loved, as I was," Espie shook her head in denial of the question, not wanting to say anymore. 

"Does this mean I should call off the beating squad?" Star teased as they left the long corridor towards the office entrance. There, two more guards fell in behind them, being the last to leave the office. 

"Dear tenants and visitors, there has been an unexpected incident. Please make your way in an orderly manner to the emergency stairs next to the lifts, thank you," a voice came from the ceiling, an obviously pre-recorded clip. 

"By the… Star, he did not get me pregnant, I volunteered!" Espie laughed, allowing the tension to drain out of her. Both of them were completely ignoring the announcement as they followed the group in front of them.

"Stay back!" there was a shout from the front of the line, and the two bodyguards leapt into action. 

Each one immediately grabbed Star and Espie, pulling them back and placing the two women behind them. Espie and Star both reached instinctively into their own clothes, with Star immediately wearing a chained glove on her right hand. The stone on the back of her hand glowed softly with an unnatural light as she in turn, then grabbed Espie and pulled her back some more. 

There was a scream in the front of the line, and then several shouts. A gun went off, and Espie's face paled. She recognised the scream, and more importantly, she recognised the shouts. There was no time to think, her worst fears were now borne out. 

"Espie, let's go!" Star was trying to get Espie to retreat, but Espie instead shook her off and ran to the front, shouting for Rubes. The bodyguards moved to block Espie, cutting her off. 

Just as she took three steps forward though, there was an explosion. It was strong enough to throw all of them off their feet, and Espie found herself falling backwards, only to be caught by a strong hand. She looked behind to see Star standing behind her, holding her up. Star was growling at something beyond her though, and Espie turned her attention back to the aftermath of the explosion - there were now bodies in front of her on the floor, with the two closest to her the charred bodies of the guards. 

"Jack, Emily, you are remembered," Espie whispered, and then she got to her feet. 

"Are you ready?" she asked carefully, and Star stopped growling long enough to take her eyes away from the explosion. 

"Yes, where?" 

"Here," Espie turned and headed back the way they came. Her steps were quick and sure, and she held her right hand in a fist, hiding a knife in her sleeve. 

As they walked down the corridor, Star kept growling. Espie did not say anything, finding that she preferred the sound of the growl to the absolute quiet that now blanketed the floor. Just as they passed the door to her office, she stopped in realisation. Star walked into her back, growling in anger. 

"What're you doing?" 

"It's too quiet." 

To Star's credit, she did not answer Espie with the obvious. Instead she cocked her head to one side, and then her eyes widened in alarm. Espie nodded quietly, and the two of them proceeded even more cautiously towards the end of the corridor. Espie knew that there would be a second set of emergency stairs at the end, but even she was unsure if they would survive this. 

"Halt," a cold, emotionless voice called out behind them. 

Espie and Star did not even bother to look. They simply broke into a run, keeping their head down. Espie swung her hand out to swipe the vases off their wooden tables, touching the walls in the process. Both she and Star could feel a heavy presence approaching them, even if they could not see it coming. 

Or rather, they refused to. 

"Halt, or you will die," the cold voice spoke with a compelling power that brought both women to a stop. 

Espie and Star stole a glance at each other, seeming to come to an understanding as they were rooted in place. They would face whatever it was that was chasing them, whether they were ready or not. 

"You may turn around," the voice was much closer now, and both women did as they were bid. 

A being all in white stood before them, his expression stern. His long black hair floated impossibly around him from under his helmet, as though he was underwater. He was covered in armour from head to toe, holding a sword in one hand and a mace in another. The sword exuded a bright glow, while the mace was covered in blood and gore. His armour meanwhile, was battered and looked like it had seen better days. The only item of his that was not battered and old was his helmet, which oddly enough, had been polished to a shiny silvery finish. 

On top of all that, he was actually not standing on the ground, but floating at least a feet into the air. 

"Give me the Expression," he looked between the two of them. Both women returned his question with blank stares. 

"I know one of you must have it," he glared when they both said nothing, carefully keeping perplexed looks on their faces. "Where is the Expression stolen from Gabriel?" 

"We have no idea what you are talking about," Espie was the first to break the silence. 

"Very well," the being pointed at Star with the sword and raised it. 

Star grabbed at her throat as her body rose into the air. It was obvious that the man was choking her using supernatural powers. She clawed at her throat, her toes pointing downwards trying to find purchase. Espie's mouth dropped in horror at the scene before her eyes. She went from looking at Star to looking at the being in terror and confusion, being struck dumb and then she tried to move towards Star, opening her arms as though she was trying to catch her. 

"Do not move. Either tell me where or… URK!" the being's concentration was broken as indescribable pain ran through his body. 

Or, at least in Espie's eyes, a long thin rapier was now jutting out from the being's chest. His concentration broken, Star dropped like a sack of potatoes, or would have if Espie had not caught her. As the being was distracted, she helped Star up and the two of them ran for the alternate emergency staircase, not bothering to look back at what was happening. They could hear the screams of the being though as they ran. 

"You dare block this Power?" the angel roared, and now the two women knew what it was. 

"What a pesky ant. Just you yet you dare to cause havoc here? Your kind really does think too highly of themselves," a loud female voice with a lazy drawl spoke. 

Both Espie and Star suppressed their laughter and schadenfreude at the angel's words, as they recognised the voice. The angel roared in anger at the woman, and they heard the sound of battle behind them, but the two women had arrived at the emergency door. Espie put her hand out to open the door when Star stopped her. 

"This is that other door, isn't it?" she asked. 

Espie nodded. 

"Do you trust me?" 

"With my soul." 

Espie grabbed the emergency door's handles and pushed it down before pushing the door itself, stepping into the dark void that was definitely not a part of a regular corporate building. Without any hesitation, Star followed her, stepping out of the way as Espie released her hands on the door and continued to walk on while the door closed behind them with a final thud.


	6. Falls

In this darkness, the shadows were long. Yet in front of them was a long, wide path, lit dimly as though the light was covered by a thick layer of mist. You could not see the light itself, but only though the mist could you navigate. 

The dim lighting would have to do, to keep them on the path.

Espie looked behind to see Star walking towards her, one hand holding the other in front of her chest, as though afraid to touch anything around them. She also noticed immediately that Star's right hand, the one with the fingerless, gem-centered lace glove, was on the outside, and the gem was glowing in the darkness. Not enough to light the way, but just enough to be seen a short distance away. 

"Star mui," Espie finally felt safe enough to call Star younger sister, a gesture of affection. 

Star looked up and took Espie's outstretched left hand. Both instinctively intertwined their fingers, falling into a childhood rhythm that made felt safe. 

"What is this place, Espie jie?" Star followed Espie's lead. She stuck close to Espie.

"No idea. We should have come out of it by now but I think the energies behind us must have messed up the route," Espie shook her right hand and activated the dagger she was holding earlier. It expanded into a full sized short sword, its blade also gleaming dully in the darkened landscape. "Is this your first time travelling the Pathways?" 

"Yes. Mother said she'd always take me but there was never enough time…" Star's voice was sorrowful. 

"Auntie Ling was always too conservative with her Pathway use," Espie shook her head. "But please tell me you know how to access your home's Pathways?" 

"I know in theory. Mother said she would formally induct me when we completed the Heir ceremony," they kept an unhurried place, walking as though they were exploring their own garden and keeping up an easy chatter. 

"Wait, which means you haven't been inducted as the new Branch Head yet?" an alarm went off in Espie's head. 

"Huh? No. Mother asked me to take her place today because she was not feeling well. She gave me everything I needed to enter the meeting," Star's voice faltered as she realised that Espie had stiffened beside her. 

"Who ARE you?" Espie suddenly dropped her hand from Star's and took several steps away, coming dangerously close to the edge of the path. 

She raised the sword and pointed it at the woman named Star. Belatedly, Espie realised that the sword's glow was not the same as glow on Star's stone. Hers glowed with a dim grey glow reminiscent of moonlight. Star's glowed with a dim white light that was closer to sunlight. The difference might seem minute to some, but not to Espie. 

"Espie jie?" the look on Star's face was confused, worried, and rejection. All of it would have triggered guilt in Espie, but she had hardened her heart the moment she stepped away from Star. 

"You are not Star. She is a Branch Head now, and has been for the longest time," Espie pointed the sword at Star, as though daring her to step forward, even as she herself backed away. It was the most ridiculous pose, Espie realised, because she would be leaving herself vulnerable to take a swing, but it was all she had at this moment. 

"Espie jie, what are you talking about? Has the energies of this world changed you too?" 

"You're not Star mui! You're not my cousin!" Espie shouted, and suddenly there was a glow under her feet. 

She had stepped off the path. 

The smile on Star's face was a smile that sent a chill down Espie's spine. It was cold, calculating, and evil. The voice that spoke was still Star's, but it was deeper and colder, with a slightly higher pitch, as though someone was trying to speak in a more innocent and cutesy tone. 

"Got you," Star sounded satisfied. 

"Demonic energy!" Espie did not hesitate when she identified the red energy emanating from under her. 

She found that she could not leave the circle, and she was beginning to lose sensation in her legs, but she could still move her upper body, somewhat. With a cry, she stabbed the sword into the ground, falling to her knees as though she was praying. The sword released a burst of pure energy that blew the mist away. It also broke the circle. 

Espie saw that she had one leg on and one leg off the path, and the feet that was off the path looked like it was going to sink into the ground, soft as it was under her shoes. She quickly stepped back onto the path and then charged towards Star. 

"Give Star back!" she cried out, raising her short sword. 

In that moment she no longer handled her sword like an immature novice, but moved like an experienced swordswoman. Star growled and took a step back to protect herself, raising her bare hands to block off Espie's furious charge. Espie revealed a grin and as her sword flashed, an answering light appearing on the fingerless lace gloves on Star's hand. 

That blinding light seared Star's skin, causing her to scream out in pain. Star fell back as smoke oozed out of her body, a presence driven out by the light from both Espie's sword and the gloves. Espie was not done though. She cleaved her sword towards the departing shadow, and the shadow itself now screamed, retreating from where they came and assuming corporeal form quickly. 

A tall being with pale white skin and bright golden hair was bent half on the Pathway, holding his bleeding stomach. His bright white wings exuded light from his body, revealing nothing but emptiness on each side of the path, which was itself seemed to be made out of stars. Espie had cut him right where she needed to, dealing a severe wound. Blood also dribbled from his mouth, but there was a sneer on his lips as he glared at Espie. 

"You will regret this, mortal. You should have given us the Expression when you had the chance," he growled as the light around him grew brighter. 

"Fuck he's going to self-destruct!" Espie realised, and she threw herself over Star as the angel opened his arms and exploded. 

The explosion sent a shudder through the Pathway. Espie felt a searing heat at her back, but she closed her eyes and merely held Star closer, trying to protect her as much as she could. The pain was extreme, and she was very sure that her skin was burnt off by now, but all that mattered was protecting the unconscious Star. 

Espie opened her eyes when she felt the blinding light had faded, but that was only the first part. She found herself and Star being thrown forward by the force of the explosion, and as the two of them hit the ground, Espie felt darkness overtake her. 

"Star!" was her last thought before she fell unconscious. 

~~~~~~

"What is God's plan for us, Michael? Do you know?" Raphaela's voice sounded eager, but Gabriel knew it was completely fake. 

"I do not, Raphaela," Michael shook his head in sorrow. "All I know is what He has asked of me, and He wishes you to return to him. And that He would still wish for you to sit at His side when the time of Judgement comes." 

"What if we choose not to?" Gabriel asked suddenly. 

"Then you will remain here, forgotten by all, and eventually by the Lord too, for He will cut off those who do not serve," Michael still had a beatific smile on his face, one full of compassion, even if the words he said made shivers run down Gabriel's back. 

"Gabriel…" Raphaela's voice was soft now, pleading. 

"How long do we have to think about it?" 

"Oh my brother, dost thou stillst not understand? God has sent me here as a last resort. If thoust turnst thy face away from Him even now, there will be no redemption," Michael shook his head and got to his feet. 

"But perhaps, this is too much to ask. You have been in that form for quite some time, and cannot make the right decision immediately," Michael raised his hand and picked up the little angel that had fallen asleep earlier. 

"I will leave you in the care of this little one, Brother," Michael's emphasis on the word Brother carried with it a tone of finality and pain, "And tell them your decision when you have made it," Michael left, and then the cells became dark again. 

Yet unlike before, the cells did not move back to their original place. Instead as the entire area turned dark, Gabriel, the little angel, and even the soft wind that indicated Raphaela were slowly frozen into place. 

And then, just like that, night descended.


End file.
